Motherly Love
by Bodmin
Summary: S2E6: What if Louisa decided a couple of minutes earlier to visit Dr. Martin Ellingham at his surgery?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures.**

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Chapter 1

A little voice in my head kept nagging me. It had been so easy to be mad at Martin. Well, it always is. He is so irritating at times. Well, at times? After all, he had stood me up at the pub. He had promised to be there at eight. Instead, I had found myself in Danny's company, who told me again what a great guy he is. My eyes, however, always wandered to the surgery across the harbour, fuming with anger that I was stood up. I nurtured my ire for almost a week, and it grew and grew, as I added all sorts of misdemeanours and mishaps Martin had accumulated over the years.

It had been easy, so far.

It had been easy until our encounter on the playground earlier today. Of course he only came because he was a doctor, doing his duty. He was looking for Maureen Tracy, poor woman. So, Maureen finally had found the courage to go to the doctor because she was feeling tired and out of sorts. I mean, Martin is a brilliant doctor. Medically superb. But what good does it do if the patients are too frightened to go to him?

When we bumped into each other, after this clumsy bugger almost knocked over one of my pupils, he was quite evasive. I couldn't help but confront him about our busted date, or whatever it was. I thought it was only fair to let him know that I was less than happy to be stood up. I won't tolerate this behaviour, not with him, nor with anyone else. I'm no object to be messed around with.

He had his usually confused look when I interrupted his medical focus by something as trivial as our relationship. Then he defensively told me that _something_ had 'cropped up'. Information not suited to get me on his side. He had looked at me cautiously before he decided that he had to add more information to get himself out of trouble.

"Your friend, Tricia Soames. And you were right, she was in a bad way."

The information hit me hard. I had urged him to be more interested in Tricia's welfare, and he had to do it exactly when we were about to have a date.

There is something about this man that makes me want to stand my ground, no matter what. I don't understand myself sometimes when it comes to the way I treat him. Neither do I understand the more visceral reaction I always have when he's too close, but that's the main problem, I think.

It is widely known that nothing comes in the way of Dr. Ellingham when he has an emergency to attend. Nothing and no one. Not even me.

To be honest, I wouldn't admire him as much as I do if he would dismiss a patient because it suited him. The dedication he has for his job is one of his best assets.

On the other hand, I didn't want to give in too easily. So my brain feverishly came up with something to criticize him for. I had nurtured this little plant of fury so carefully over the last week, it had completely ruined my weekend, and I didn't want to let it go without a fight.

"You could have called." was the best I could come up with.

This man astonished me over and over again. Instead of defending himself, justify the importance of a medical emergency over a date at the pub, he simply nodded: "Yes."

And off he went, attending his own business. Business that didn't include me.

Unfortunately the class I had to give didn't occupy my mind enough to get this little episode out of my head. The worst part was that my perspective shifted the longer I thought about it. Standing on the playground with him I was absolutely convinced that the very least thing he could have done was to call me.

Then I thought of Trish and how strange her behaviour was at times. The shock when she paled because I wanted to make her leave the school for the fire drill was still in my bones. She had told me before that Martin had refused to see her. Some fuel for my anger. But thinking about it, that behaviour was very unlike Martin. There were many things you could say about Martin Ellingham, most of them not in his favour, but he was and probably always would be a good doctor, who invested a lot in the welfare of his patients.

Actually, he was so much the doctor of Portwenn that it was difficult to imagine how he would spend his time when there was no patient to be fixed. Well, I did know that he switched from bodies to clocks. Close enough, but at least the clocks didn't keep nattering on.

So what if Martin really had planned to come to our date, leave his little hermit hut, just when Tricia burst in? I had urged her to see Martin. I had also urged Martin to have a look at Trish. So, in the end I would have been to blame that our date was ruined.

I pondered over these issues while trying to get the basics of English history into the thick heads of eight-year-olds.

I was about to meet Danny in the afternoon to have a bite together before going to the talent night. I'd promised him to help him to fix his mum's house the next afternoon. I had a good excuse to postpone my visit to the surgery. But visit I must. I had to apologise to Martin, although I didn't have the slightest idea how. Martin could be so... difficult to talk to, even at the best of times. And coming to him to apologize wasn't exactly the best of times.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I had also heard that his parents were visiting. Danny had mentioned he had met Martin's parents when Martin had stopped to pick Danny up after his car had broken down.

He had told me the parents were exactly the kind of people you would expect to be the parents of a smug high flying surgeon...oops local GP. For someone who had allegedly found religion Danny could be a really nasty bit of you-know-what at times. I thought it had been nice of Martin to give Danny a lift, especially as I had an inkling what Martin must be thinking of Danny.

Danny had informed me that the atmosphere in the car had been very strained and that he had been darn glad to get out of the car, fearing to freeze to death otherwise.

I had also bumped into Mark on my way to school. Ignoring that I was rushing to work, struggling with a couple of books, he stopped me.

"Hullo, Louiser. Did you go to the pub last night?"

"No," I sighed and nodded to some exercise books I was balancing, "had some marking to do. Some other..."

I was stopped by him. "Last night... you'll never guess who was at the pub."

"Mark, I am in a bit of a hurry."

"Guess." He smiled at me and his open face made it impossible for me to disappoint him.

"Sorry, Mark. I really don't know. The Beast of Bodmin Moor?"

Mark chuckled. "Well, maybe some would say you're right. No. You know, the Doc." He nodded into the general direction of the surgery. "_Our_ Doc. And there hadn't even been an emergency. Can you remember the Doc being at the pub, voluntarily?"

"No, Mark. That doesn't seem to be his cup of tea at all. How come?"

"He was with his dad." Mark grabbed my arm, just when I hoped I could escape to be at least vaguely in time for my first class. "Have you met the Doc's dad?"

"No Mark, I haven't."

"No family resemblance there," Mark mused. "_Definitely_ no family resemblance. No, old Mr Ellingham is a true charmer. If he' d been twenty years younger, I truly would have been worried about my Julie. Even kissing her hand. Imagine." Mark lowered his voice and came closer to my ear, as if he was about to disclose confidential information. "Seems to be a bit of a ladies' man." Mark nudged my side. "Know what I mean?"

I imagined Martin in the pub with his old man, who was flirting with every woman in Portwenn, and could only start to guess what that would do to his mood.

"You know, I've told the Doc he should be a bit more like his dad. You know – sociable. Seemed to be a nice sort, his dad. Even insisted in buying me a drink."

I sighed. "Mark, I've really got to go. Class is starting in few minutes."

"Oh…sure…I…I didn't keep you, did I?"

'_Yes, you sure did._' That's what I've been thinking. However, what I was saying was. "No, not at all. See 'ya."

It was my lucky day, obviously. Next I bumped into Pauline, who was just leaving her mum's house when I had almost made it to school. It's hard to believe how long it can take to walk those few yards when you're in a village.

"Helloooo, Louisa!" She darted right at me.

"Sorry, Pauline, need to rush. School." I tried to swerve past her, but to no avail. With a swift movement Pauline blocked my way.

"Have you heard? The Doc has visitors."

"His parents." I sighed. That was hardly fresh news. I bet it had been all over the village before his parents even set foot in his cottage.

"So you have met them?" Pauline piped.

"No. I've been home all evening. Marking tests." I nodded to the exercise books again and tried to pass Pauline to finally be able to start my work, but Pauline blocked my way again.

"His dad is a real charmer." She quipped. "A lovely man. Such a shame the Doc isn't a chip off the old block at all." Pauline giggled.

"So I've heard." I sighed. "What's his mother like?" Everyone was praising his dad, but I hadn't heard anyone mentioning his mother. Wasn't it odd that Martin and his father were roaming about town, leaving the mother home alone? Was she sick? That would have been an explanation.

"Actually, hardly ever see her. She's a bit… reclusive." Pauline whispered as if she was disclosing MI-5 top secret information.

Just then, I heard the school bell and the bustle from the schoolyard indicating that the last pupils were rushed inside. I practically pushed Pauline out of my way. "Have to run." I shouted after her and started my day, breathless and clinging to my papers.

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

So Martin had been practically on my mind since the moment I left my house, peaking in meeting the man himself and learning that I had done him wrong in assuming that he wasn't interested in a date with me.

By lunch, I had come to the firm conclusion that an apology to Martin couldn't be postponed. There was no use. Until I had this wretched business out of my way, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else. The injustice I had done to him was a thorn in my flesh and it kept hurting. If I wanted to give a better performance as a teacher during the afternoon, then I had to go up that hill now.

So, instead of grabbing my packed sandwich in the staff room I took my handbag and marched towards the harbour and up the hill. It is strange. Roscarrock Hill had never seemed so steep and long before.

Actually, it was long enough that doubt got the better of me. What should I say to Martin? How could I explain? Wasn't I intruding when his parents were visiting? I just turned on my heels and bought a pasty on my way back to the school instead.

In the afternoon I met with Danny to go with him to the talent night later on. Danny was good company. I knew that I could _never_ ask Martin to come with me to such an event. Even if he'd be coming, which was unlikely enough, he would embarrass both of us to no end. I sighed.

The night Martin had stood me up at the pub and I had spent the evening with Danny instead, I had made a mental list when I was back at home. I had to understand how I had ended up in this muddle, between two men but not with either of them. If I only understood.

Rationally I knew that Danny would be the better choice for me. Since he was back in Portwenn he had sent strong signals that he was quite keen to revive our relationship from way back when. We could share memories. We had a similar background. He seemed to be settling in Portwenn. He adored me and was quite good looking. He was fun to be with, sociable, good for a laugh. He also earned a decent living and had made himself a name as an architect.

But no matter how much I liked spending time with Danny, there wasn't the right spark between us. Well, at least not from my side. There was something missing that was definitely not rational.

That was exactly what drew me to Martin against my will. And against my will it was. I had no explanation whatsoever why I wanted to be with Martin. Normally, I'm not the chasing-the-impossible type of pursuer. I don't need to prove to myself that I can get every man, no matter how aloof he might seem. There was absolutely nothing that connected Martin and me. He was gruff, monosyllabic and rude, he also was stand-offish, irritable, snobby, you name it. He had a whole bag of characteristics that I couldn't stand. Not a whole bag, more like a trunk!

However, I couldn't deny that I was definitely drawn to him. Funny thing was that I was pretty sure that he wasn't completely uninterested either.

I just hoped that if I could get a glimpse of what he really thought, what he really felt, I might understand my attraction and deal with it – either way. It was the first time that I'd felt myself having a crush on someone and absolutely no idea why. I had hoped the evening in the pub could help me – us – to get our relationship straight, but it remained rocky as it could be.

This night I found myself in the company of the man that would be better suited for me but for whom I didn't really feel that much. We both had settled at a little table in the village hall to watch the talent night. To be exact, I wasn't in his company for too long, as Danny's cough seemed to be getting worse and worse. I had told him several times to go and see Dr. Ellingham, but Danny wouldn't have any of it. Men!

Maureen was announced to enter the stage, but instead Martin's tall frame appeared through the curtain. Again, I found myself between Danny and Martin. Just as Danny was leaving to cough his lungs out outside, Martin made his entrance. Again, my stomach reacted and I felt a warm flush. Seeing Martin always made me react physically.

He was his grumpy self. Matters were made worse, as the whole village laughed. In a way, I could understand them, as his appearance had a comical touch. Martin, however, quite visibly didn't see the humorous side. Maybe he thought he was being laughed at, and maybe he wasn't too much off the mark. I sat at the table, quite indecisively, with both men heading for the exit, both in distress, and me being unable to help either of them.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Next Day, during my lunch break, I finally decided to face Martin and apologize for my stupid behaviour.

How could I tell Martin not to stand up to other people and treat them right when I couldn't start doing exactly that to him?

One thing I always believed as a teacher was the value of giving a good example. You cannot expect your pupils to act better than you do. Well, maybe the same applied to Martin Ellingham.

As soon as I started to ascend the hill, that little voice was nagging at me again. With as much stamina as I could muster I proceeded on my way up the hill. I reached the surgery and knocked. No response.

I poked my head in just to see that the reception desk and waiting room was empty. Obviously I'd managed to catch him during his lunch break, maybe I should try the back door? No, that's silly, as I was already in his cottage.

I went to the consulting room door and knocked. Again no response. I opened the door carefully, bracing myself for his ire of being disturbed, but he wasn't there either.

So I made my way through the little corridor to his kitchen. Uncharacteristically, the kitchen door was shut. I came a bit closer, arguing with myself if I should disturb him during his lunch break as he obviously didn't want to be disturbed today.

In deciding whether to stay or go, I had shifted closer to the door. I could see Martin standing near the door with his back to me. It was quiet in there.

Just when I was about to knock on the door I heard Martin's astonishingly tender voice:

.

"Listen, Mum. I've just about had enough of this, uh, this silence. I want you to tell me what exactly it is you want with all of Joan's money. I know that Dad can be a bit... you know… but I'm not like him. You can talk to me."

.

So he was with his mother? Then I really shouldn't intrude. I decided to come back later, when I had finished helping Danny. Maybe that would be a better strategy.

However, the comment that he would be easier to talk to than his dad made me pause longer than I intended. From everything I've heard so far about Mr Ellingham senior, he was the sociable sort. Easy to talk to. Have a pint on me.

It seemed that behind closed doors, this man showed a different side. And what was it about Joan's money? Joan was always tight in her budget. There were hardly millions to be got. Besides, everyone had the impression that Martin's parents were the ones with the big dough.

While I was still musing about that, despite wanting to leave, I heard a woman laugh. And the cold, belittling laugh made my blood freeze.

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

.

"What?" Martin asked, a little confused.

.

"You're not like him - you can say that again."

.

I knew I should go. I knew I was intruding on Martin's privacy. But there was something in this woman's voice that made me freeze in my actions. No, actually, I even came a bit closer to the door to hear what was going on.

I scolded myself for eavesdropping, but I couldn't tear myself away either.

.

"What?" I heard Martin say, definitely irritated, but still in a soft voice. It was actually quite touching how concerned and protective he was towards his mother.

His mother's voice was strangely detached, cold, maybe even a bit superior and annoyed. And there was definitely a certain venom in it.

.

"He's reached the top of his profession. He's charming, still a handsome man, even now. We were happy before you arrived, the perfect marriage. He was always touching me under the table in a restaurant, in the car, or…. It was like electricity."

.

I disliked her immediately. She was horrid! What did she mean his father reached the top of his profession? So did Martin! Roger had said something about the Midas touch, and that smug bastard at Truro hospital had referred to him as the Great Ellingham.

All medical members of the board of governors had been starstruck by Martin's application. He certainly must have been a big shot, before his tragic phobia befell him. Wasn't that reason enough for a bit of sympathy? It was rather Martin's merit than fault that he cared too much for his patients to stand their pain.

Besides, what did this woman expect from a marriage? Constant fondling? As if a marriage was a sort of standing order for sex.

I noticed that moment that I disliked Martin's father as much as I disliked his mother. At least in that point I did agree with this ice queen, Martin was nothing like his father in that respect. Maybe the over attraction of his father to physical displays had caused Martin to withdraw completely from this line of action. He could do with a bit more of a sex drive, while his parents obviously had a bit too much of it. I mean, a marriage is a place of comfort, a shelter to raise children in – not that I was speaking out of experience. I sighed inwardly.

I felt the urge to pull the door open that instant and to yell at this horrid bitch what a great professional Martin was and when it came to handsome – my guts told me the answer.

However, his mother continued in her monotone way while these thoughts flashed through my brain.

.

"Then you came along. I knew it was all over. He could never see me as a woman again. I was a mother, a deflated balloon."

.

I almost choked. I bit my lip not to shout out loud. I had never ever heard anything like that before in my entire life.

As a teacher, you get to know all sorts of parents. Ones who pamper their child beyond reasonable limits. Ones that accept their child and do their duty. Ones who love their child but are unable to care for them properly, either financially or physically (like Mrs. Cronk). Even ones that neglect their children and couldn't care less.

I have encountered all these sorts, in varying amounts, but I had never ever met a woman who thought her regard as a woman was destroyed by having a child. And as far as the deflated balloon goes, there is still a lot of hot air left in this puffed up witch.

.

"So I decided I would make things just as they were before, just him and me together. Put you in boarding school, sent you to spend the summers here with Joan."

.

I leaned my head against the wood. How much damage can one woman do in one minute? I knew that she was just speaking for a very short time, but my head was racing, my emotions running rampant, that it felt that I was standing here since the beginning of time. I felt incredibly tired. Completely worn out. This must be some nightmare. This couldn't be for real.

However, it explained a lot. It explained why Martin was so incredibly formal in everything he did, so incredibly insecure when it came to social interactions, so absolutely precise when it came to his job, so unbelievably independent and self-sufficient, and so utterly lonesome and miserable.

What effect would it have on a child's psyche if you feel you're unwanted and if you are discarded like a misplaced piece of luggage?

And what would it do to him now, having to listen to the most enormous speech I had ever heard?

It also explained why Joan seemed to be the only one he was fond of and whose company he could stand. An ally from his childhood. The place, where he had been welcome.

There are few people who are warmer and friendlier than Joan Norton. He had been lucky to have had her.

.

"Somehow, you were always there between us. Always needy, always bullied, and teased, and wetting your bed."

.

I felt tears prickling in my eyes. My teacher's brain kicked in and I saw a little shy boy, an outsider. I bet his extraordinary intelligence didn't do him any good in boarding school. And clever he must have been.

A child still wetting the bed when at school always has deep psychological problems. That's not rocket science.

It's not rocket science either that being bullied and teased and practically thrown out of your home would cause a deep trauma. Maybe fear of separation. Maybe a feeling of unworthiness. Feeling forlorn.

I felt my guts turn. If one of my pupils would have such a background, I would inform social services. Immediately!

I could imagine Martin as this lonesome, sad little boy, but my brain refused to think of him as _needy_. The man I knew needed no one. Come to think of it, he hardly needed anything either. A very basic but healthy diet. No expensive hobbies. Quite basic accommodation. No friends or mates. No posh assets or furniture. The only luxuries he seemed to have were his expensive suits, his oversized car and a good cup of coffee. Otherwise, he was almost ascetic.

As a person, I didn't know of even _one_ occasion when he had asked for help, for company, comfort or anything. He seemed to be on a planet of his own. In his own galaxy.

Was that his way to prove that he wasn't needy? Was all his aloofness simply a reaction of this accusation?

I started to realise that the supreme surgeon and strong man I admired had several cracks in his armour, which he had learned to cover well.

.

"When I couldn't get his attention, it was always his money. Then we lost everything. Did he tell you that? Lost it on some bloody, fictitious golf development in the Algarve. Well, we only have the villa because he put it in my name for tax reasons. That's when I realized that's what our marriage had become, a marriage of tax conveniences."

.

Now the cat was out of the bag. Now Martin knew that the only reason his parents had visited him was because they needed money. Trying to get it from Joan, of all people, was like getting blood from a stone. This gruesome twosome really stopped at nothing.

It was beyond me how a thoroughly moral and straightforward man like Martin could come from such a shallow, selfish and slimy breed. But then again, I hope I'm not the typical offspring of a gambling thief and philandering selfish hippy.

I just didn't get where the difference between a professional prostitute and her was. They both sell their bodies for money. Nothing more.

Despite the horrible consequences, part of me was quite smug about his father, this big shadow over Martin, having mucked it up completely.

.

I realised that his mother seemed to have finished her horrible speech. She had opened Pandora's box, and the only hope left for me was Martin's response.

I knew how eloquent he could be when he felt criticized. A speech about rats running rampart through Portwenn came to my mind.

I pressed my ear close to the door not to miss any of Martin's brilliant riposte.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

.

"Oh, Mum…" I could hardly believe my ears. Martin had uttered these words so lowly, so softly, that I had almost missed them. His voice was still warm and sympathetic, but shaking slightly. After everything his mother had told him, he was still feeling for her. Supporting her.

I wanted to rush in to shake sense into this man. I would never understand him.

Just the tiniest bit of criticism, and you were subject to his sarcasm. He was someone who could tear you apart with his sharp tongue just as expertly as he must be able to dissect you with his scalpel.

This rock of a man, never shaken, was completely helpless. I felt anger rising within me. I was angry with Martin. I was _furious_. How could he accept such an outrageous accusation without defending himself? No, not defending, but tear her to pieces! Throwing her out would be too good for this blasted woman!

Why wasn't Martin doing something! Anything!

Why was he so helpless?! I thought

.

"I've met someone there, someone who looks at me and sees a woman. He's moving in there with me. That's why your father needs somewhere to live."

.

_Helpess…._

.

"40 years. 40 years of clinging on to your father. 40 years of my life wasted."

.

That's your fault, you nasty bitch. Marrying for money never is a good base for any relationship. I bet as soon as your villa's gone, your new lover will disappear with what is left of the money. Your husband lost his share on 18 holes, you'll manage the same on one.

And you didn't cling to his father, you did cling to his money. That's prostitution, just with one single customer and more profit and better reputation.

If you'd done something useful with your life, it wouldn't have been wasted. Tell her that, Martin!

.

"Mum, I'm sorry…"

That wasn't the response I had hoped nor expected from Martin. I couldn't understand him at all. He was so unlike himself. He seemed so helpless.

Helpless.

.

"Because of you." The last sentence of his mother hit me like a gunshot.

.

It felt as if I had been hit by a fist in my stomach. I felt nauseous. How much venom does this snake have? It there no limit to her meanness?

Didn't she realise that her own son, her only child, was helpless against her bombardment of unjustified accusations?

He was _helpless_. Finally the penny dropped. The penny that was hovering indecisively in the air as I was too upset to see the obvious. He needed help!

How often had Martin rushed to my help? And here I was, hiding behind the door and letting the man I'd come to do justice to be torn to shreds.

I had to help him, even if I had to reveal that I had been eavesdropping. If he needed help, I had to be there for him. I had given that nasty bit of womankind all the right answers in my mind already. Now it was time to throw them directly into her face.

.

I grabbed the doorknob.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I threw the door open just to feel the door being pulled open from the other side.

I found myself face to face with Martin. I suppose we both were equally shocked to see each other, although I knew that I would be entering his kitchen, so I should have been prepared.

But I hadn't been prepared for the look in his eyes.

I've never seen Martin that close to his cracking point. He was trying very hard to keep his composure, but all the pain and rejection and hurt of the whole world lay in those eyes.

Our eyes interlocked for a moment, and his eyes widened in shock when he realised.

"Louisa!" He was half shouting, half whispering. A sort of quiet scream that gave my heart a twist. To be correct, it tugged on it in a massive tug-of-war.

"Martin." I said softly, trying to touch his arm, but he withdrew it, looking away in pain. I could see him swallow.

Seeing him in his misery fired my anger anew and I squeezed past him. Alarmed, Martin looked after me and tried to stop me by grabbing my hand. I shrugged it off to face my target, but the skin where he had touched me burned. It was as if all his pain had been in that touch and that I could feel it through his skin.

Just when I positioned myself in front of his kitchen table, where his mother was smugly residing over her newspaper, I heard Martin begging in a whisper. "Don't."

But he was wrong! Someone had to defend him. _I_ had to defend him.

.

"Who the hell you think you are!" I was shouting. "Actually, I've seen loads of crap parents in my time, but you really top them all. Is there _any_ sense of decency in you? Or do you really think the whole world has to spin around you and your shallow urges."

I tried to look her full in the eye, but she looked straight through me. She didn't even take the tiniest bit of notice of me.

"What you have just said to Martin…" I continued but was interrupted by her calm and annoyed voice, clearly addressing Martin.

"Remove this subject, _please_."

"_Subject!_" I squeaked.

Just now I felt Martin's big hand on my shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "Maybe it is best to let it rest, Louisa." I turned around and saw those eyes of a wounded warrior. "Please." Martin insisted. "I'll…explain later."

I shrugged his arm off.

"Maybe you are used of treating people like objects that can be disposed of to your own liking. You quite obviously haven't the slightest remorse about damaging your only child so badly that most people would never recover from it. I've seen children being destroyed by far less abuse. Just because Martin is an extraordinary man and so…so…bloody wonderful and strong, he managed to grow into a man worthy of…of a _hundred_ ordinary men, _despite_ his upbringing. And you have the nerve to belittle him! You, of all people! What have you achieved in your wasted life?! Hm?! No one loves you, never had – you were just an object of desire and now a piggy bank for some southern Casanova. You have never been loved, because you're _absolutely_ unlovable. You're the worst person I've ever encountered, and that says a lot."

"Martin, do make her stop." The icy queen said, demonstratively opening her newspaper again in an insultingly calm way.

"Louisa, I really think…" Martin started clumsily, his eyes begging me.

"SHUT UP!" I shouted at him, now fuming with anger.

Much to my surprise, Martin jumped slightly backwards, eyes wide open like a scared rabbit and stumbled against the door.

His mother shook her head. "You are _really_ useless. Look at you. Tall as a tree and weak as a worm. You never had any backbone at all."

"JUST because he isn't trampling over everybody's feelings, that doesn't mean he is weak. He is the strongest, most reliable man I've ever known!"

"Not many men around in these backwaters, I reckon, except for yokels and losers hiding in the back of beyond."

That was the first time she actually reacted to what I've been saying. She was a tough nut to crack. She looked over my shoulder towards Martin. "Isn't that so, _Marty_." She sneered.

Just that moment a man appeared from the living room. He was tall and had a very strained smile on his smug face.

"What is going on?" He asked with authority.

"Christopher, please remove her. Martin isn't able to, of course."

"Who are you anyway?" He acted as if he was at home.

"This is Louisa Glasson, the head teacher of Portwenn Primary." Martin quickly explained in a submissive way that I'd never seen on him before and which wasn't very becoming.

Before he could introduce his father, _if_ he ever planned to do so, his father shook his head and interrupted him.

"Really, Martin. You're still hiding behind the head teacher? It was embarrassing enough at boarding school, when you rather hid behind your teacher afraid of being roughed up a bit than facing your mates at eye level. It's really a disgrace that you're still doing it forty years later. You've never grown a backbone." He shook his white head again. "Once a wimp, always a wimp. That's what I told you when you were a boy. But you just wet your bed and started to blubber. You haven't changed _one bit_."

"Mr. Ellingham," I started to give him a piece of my mind, too.

"Yes, that's correct." He condescendingly interrupted me. "_Mr._ Ellingham. _I _didn't shy away from the family tradition of being top surgeons. _I_ carried the torch into the next generation proudly, just to watch it going to ashes."

"I'm sorry, Dad." I heard Martin mutter like a beaten puppy. I turned around with fury in my eyes.

"_Don't _you dare to apologize!" I spit at him. Then turned back to face his dad. "_Your_ son is the most brilliant doctor I've ever met…" before I could continue, I was interrupted again.

"You mean better than old Jim Sims?"

"You might believe we're kept here and don't know what's going on in the world." I hissed. "Just to let you know, I have lived in London and studied in London and I still know doctors in London – not one of which are even remotely in the same league as your son."

"An expert's opinion, then." Martin's father was dripping with sarcasm.

Martin put his hand on my shoulder again. "Please, you're just making it worse."

I turned around, my fury evaporated into thin air, looking at that beaten wreck before me. "But I just _need _to help you."

"I'm fine. Now go."

Martin pushed me into the general direction of the kitchen door and shuffled me through it. He slipped into the hallway after me.

"What were you been thinking? It is none of your business." He looked towards the closed door and sighed. "You made it even worse."

I looked at him gobsmacked. All I wanted to do is help him, defend him when he obviously wasn't able to stand his ground. While he had stoically taken the most outrageous insults from his so-called parents, he turned his anger towards me. Accusing _me_ of making the whole situation worse?

I heard voices from the waiting room. Pauline seemed to be back and the waiting room had started to fill up for the afternoon shift. This was neither the right time nor place for a confrontation, or it would be all over Portwenn before I was even back at school.

"Right!" I declared, energetically swinging my handbag over my shoulder, and stomped off.

_To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

So much for apologizing to Martin. Instead of solving my confusion about him and sort out my feelings for him, they were more muddled than ever.

When I marched down the hill after my visit, I was again mad at him. As mad as I'd been after he had stood me up at the pub.

What was he thinking talking to me like that? Why had he almost thrown me out? He couldn't push me around like that. No way!

At the time I had reached school, the other part of my visit was sinking in. The conversation that I had overheard and my confrontation with his parents, if you could call it that. However, his parents were so full of themselves that they didn't even notice other people around them. You could tell them whatever you liked, they didn't care and just wanted to remove the nuisance.

As they had removed the nuisance their child had presented from their lives.

I had no class to give this afternoon but was busy with some administrative stuff. I withdrew into my office and closed the door. From the open window came the sounds of the sea and the screeching of seagulls. Somewhere children were laughing.

Was there any sound better than happy children enjoying themselves?

This thought touched a sore spot in my life. I had always wanted to have children. Lots of them. I loved children, otherwise I wouldn't have become a teacher. However, when I had thought I had found a man, it wasn't the right time as my studies had priority. Then I had started the job, and it wasn't the right time nor did I have a man at that point. Now I was almost past my right time and still there wasn't the right man around. Against my will I often found myself bracing myself for ending up alone.

But then again, who was the right man to have children with?

Was it Danny, almost a child himself in his self-centred ways and easy enthusiasm? I could imagine him playing and fooling around with a child, but being firm and teaching it something useful was hard to imagine.

Or was it Martin, who probably never had been a real child ever and probably would never understand children. He could probably teach children lots of things, but I could hardly imagine him sitting on the floor playing with a four-year-old.

So who was the right man to father my child?

.

I tried to imagine Danny with a baby, and that was pretty easy. The imagined Danny was smiling and cooing and tickling the tummy. He was showing off the baby to all and sundry, bursting with pride.

Then I tried to imagine Martin with a baby, and a smile crept over my face. A crooked smile. I could see his distorted face, the child held at arm lengths, his nose wrinkling at the distinct smell of poo. He'd probably put disposable gloves on when handling the baby, as fastidious as he was. I bet he would be checking the child over by the minute, temperature, bowel movements, sleeping hours would be carefully monitored. His reaction to the village's interest. He would be shooing them away. No, Martin and children didn't go well together in my imagination.

.

Then I thought if something went not as planned and I needed help, who would I trust most to stand by me?

I saw Danny, making big speeches and promising the moon or the sky, if... he didn't have this meeting, or that project, or this duty...and I was so much better at it anyway. He'd pray for my guidance.

On the other hand, I know that Martin would rush from the other end of the globe if I needed help. He would pull all the strings he thought could possibly be useful. He'd be there in a tad, not leaving before he was absolutely sure that the danger was over and no harm done.

So, what did I want? Someone to have fun with, who was easy going and quite popular, so that everyone would congratulate me on my choice, but whom I couldn't completely trust or depend on?

Or did I settle for a grumpy sour puss, with everyone declaring me mad to stick to him, to whom I had to explain every time I made a joke because he probably wouldn't get it, but who would be there for me no matter what and stick with me in good times or bad?

What would be better for a child - a happy atmosphere with lots of laughter where you have to muddle through at times, or a serious well organised household where it would be as safe as it was possible?

I knew from my own experience that laughter was a shallow comfort on an empty stomach. However, with Danny and I both earning money, the latter wasn't to be expected. However, a crisis didn't have to be connected with money. As a child, I would have wished for a bit more stability that I had and would have gladly sacrificed some of my dad's feeble jokes.

I knew Danny's childhood pretty well, and he didn't have much reason to complain. The only child of reasonably well-off parents. His father was quite proud of him and actually gave him more confidence than was good for poor old Danny. His mother had a mean streak. She still loves to put people in their place, which is always beneath her. However, she could hold the household together and organise everything. Without her, the family money wouldn't have lasted that long. She was the voice of reason. Would that be my part if I stuck to Danny?

I had never thought much about Martin Ellingham's childhood, until today. He was always the epitome of a grown up to me, so there was hardly any reason to imagine him as a child. I had hardly ever met anybody who showed fewer signs or habits of his former miniature self than Martin Ellingham. I always looked up to him, and sometimes - no, most of the time - his long shadow was darkening my affection for him. Only when Joan handled him with the implicitness of someone who had known him his entire life, I was able to see '_little Marty'_ in that stiff suit and controlled composure.

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I realised that there were all sorts of couples, and neither was better or worse. Just different.

.

And then there were couples like the Ellinghams. They regarded marriage as a social attitude and mating as a family duty to transport the family tradition into the next generation. Therefore, the life of the offspring was planned to the last detail. There was neither room nor tolerance for individual wishes or preferences. The child had to follow the schedule – prep school, boarding school, A-levels, OxCam, Medical School, Surgeon, Top Surgeon at a prestigious hospital – and even the tiniest deviation was regarded as a complete failure. If it was reached, it was regarded as normal and not worth mentioning.

I found myself sitting in front of all the forms and applications for funding but staring into thin air and playing with my pen. Children were on my mind, but not the ones in my school.

I got up and went over to the window overlooking the harbour. I was so lucky to have a cottage and an office that both shared this gorgeous view. Visitors travelled for hundreds and even thousands of miles to have a share of it during their holidays each year. I was even paid to have this view every day. I looked across the harbour to Martin's surgery. Patients were coming and going.

I knew Martin would function properly, as he always did. I knew he would do his duty in his usual brilliant way without even noticing the brilliant things he was doing. I had an inkling now, that he had had a lifetime of training, doing his duty and being brilliant, and it was taken for granted.

Now that I have met his parents, I couldn't imagine him ever getting any praise. I bet even if he'd been the best in his year, as he probably had been, it still wasn't good enough. For his parents he was and always would be a needy disturbance of their meaningless life.

I had never witnessed a creepy scene like that. His mother seemed to think it was absolutely appropriate to accuse her only child of his mere existence. How weird was that? And what kind of husband would lose interest in his wife just because she had a child – as long as it was his?

Martin didn't seem to have practise in standing up to them. Martin, who yelled and barked at every villager for the tiniest mishap; Martin, who had it his way no matter against whom he had to fight; Martin, who seemed attached to or dependant on no one – he was absolutely helpless against the vile, unfounded, horrendous accusations his parents shot at him.

I shook my head. I certainly didn't understand Martin at all. He was such an enigma – a wild mix of strong and weak, accomplished and clumsy, monosyllabic and sharp tongued, shy and self-assured bordering to arrogance.

Today, my perspective of Martin was shaken up. Seeing him with his parents was something I could have never imagined. I still couldn't grasp the fact that someone who stood his ground against a whole village, who functioned stoically despite his phobia and who didn't seem to bow in front of any authority, was absolutely helpless against two vile elderly people.

I have to admit that both his parents had an air of unapproachability around them. They seemed to be in their own world high above any normal mortal. They simply didn't care about anything anyone said.

If people thought that Martin was a smug bastard, then they certainly hadn't seen the next older generation in full action.

What did that mean in regard to how Martin had experienced his childhood? Was I seeing little Marty all the time and didn't recognize him as he had never experienced any carefree, childish behaviour?

The information I had received from my, admittedly, not quite moral eavesdropping had pointed in that direction. Boarding school as soon as possible. What age would that be? Six? Seven? In any case too young to remember a time when he'd been at home, living with a family. I had always assumed he must have liked school, as he must have excelled in every subject. He is highly intelligent and learns easily. Every teacher's dream.

But definitely not the schoolmates dream. '_Always teased, always bullied_.' was the way his mother had put it,

Why did he occupy my mind like that? I could use the excuse that his vile upbringing was a good lesson for a teacher in how _not _to do it.

I imagined children at the grade I was teaching separated from their parents, being kept at school day-in, day-out, 24/7, with no mother to comfort them or a father to get advice from. I imagined them learning every minute of the day, in a rat race with his peers for the pole position for a successful professional life.

In my mind, I saw a miniature version of Martin watching all that from the corner of the room, not mingling, not participating – just watching, with his lip curled.

Suddenly little Marty was right in the room. Standing in the corner, keeping away from others. Deep mistrust against everyone. Always cautious, having to have his defences up, day and night, so that no one could attack him unprepared.

I realised that Martin was far from being the adult I had taken him for. It was just that he had acted like an adult as a kid and was still giving this performance.

I saw Martin's wounded eyes before me, when he was silently begging me not to get involved.

I just wanted to defend him against his parents! But of course he knew them better. Maybe he also knew me better. I give myself credit for acting in his best interest, however I do have to admit that I hadn't been much of a help. Maybe I even made matters worse. Maybe they were just as bad as they could be anyhow. But one thing was for sure, I certainly hadn't made it better.

I sighed and looked across the harbour. He was still in there with those two cats of prey, who would even tear their own son to pieces when it suited them. I was at the other side, safe, and doing nothing.

I just knew that if it had been the other way around, Martin would find a way to get me out of this.

Martin was more and more of a puzzle to me the longer I thought about him.

He always was so rude to everyone and brusque. However, when he spoke to his mother, there'd been such tenderness in his voice. Even after she had torn him to pieces with her vile words, he had felt sorry for her, trying clumsily and softly to express his sympathy. Just to receive the finishing stroke in the end.

Was that the _'family'_-Martin? Was there someone behind this fortified tower that longed for everything he didn't have as a child? Just as I was craving for the security I never had?

Did he also have dreams about how his family should be? Or if I chose him, would my dream simply have to be strong enough to carry us both?

One thing was sure now. If I decided that Martin would be the right father for my hoped-for child, then we both couldn't rely on experience.

The longer I kept thinking about this, the more confused I got. Maybe it was time to find out. Maybe now was the time to assess both possible candidates for a relationship seriously and thoroughly.

I had postponed having a family until the right man came along, but my biological clock was ticking.

I had two men interested in me and both couldn't be more different. It was on me now.

Did I want to be an equal companion, bonded in jolly camaraderie, but having to do things on my own and care for myself a good deal?

Or did I want the old fashioned chivalry, doors being opened for me, tasks being done for me, a helping hand only a stone's throw away, but never equal, never completely independent?

I loved my independence and I was proud that I had always managed without help, that I had managed getting myself sorted despite my useless parents.

On the other hand I couldn't deny that I valued the way Martin treated me, with his old fashioned values, and I cherished that I always knew to whom I could turn to. I knew Martin would always be there.

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

This afternoon I would meet with Danny, who had asked me to help him renovate his mother's house so that he could sell it. I was looking forward to spending time with him and doing things together.

To be honest, a thought crept into my mind wondering if there was anything I would ever be able to do together with Martin. He was so bloody brilliant and self-sufficient and never asked for any help at all. Was there anything that we could share?

After I'd finished school, I picked up the paint I had promised Danny to bring. The next DIY store was miles away and Danny didn't know where to get it. I knew a local painter who promised to get the paint for me, cheaper even as it was not the normal business prices, but the supply for builders.

His three sons had all been in my class, the last one had left the primary about a year ago. They were very lively children and so I had seen quite a lot of their parents.

Maybe his kind offer to get the paint for me was also sort of compensation for all the nerves his boys had cost me.

I had picked up the paint and was on my way to my car when I saw Joan Norton's pickup on her delivery tour. As she had to stop to let some tourists pass by, I crossed the street.

"Hello Joan, visiting your brother, are you?"

"Definitely not!" Joan exclaimed and her face had the air of a thunderstorm. "Have you also been charmed by him? You're just his type of prey."

"If you're cross with your brother, don't take it out on me. I've just heard he's in town and met him only briefly."

"Oh, you met him then? Are you also going to tell me what a charmer he is?"

"It's not my fault you're on bad terms with your brother. Actually, the short encounter with him was not warming me to him. He was quite horrid to Martin."

"Martin?!" Joan exclaimed in disgust, which I found odd. I always had the impression the two were as close as Martin probably would anyone ever allow to be. "I thought Martin had finally managed to sneak his way into his Dad's good books. After all, he is in cahoots with him against me! That lousy rat! After all I've done! After being more of a mother to him than that shallow bitch has ever been!"

"Are you sure? I didn't get the impression that Martin was on very good terms with his parents."

"The backbone of a worm, that's Martin's problem. Always clinging to the apron string only to find there's no mother attached. And now he plays the game his parents want him to play. If you see him you can tell him that he should think about getting his priorities right."

Furiously Joan started the pickup and rushed down the hill in a cloud of dust.

I stood nailed on the spot, gobsmacked. It was the second time today that my view of Martin was challenged. Joan's accusations didn't either fit to the encounter I had witnessed before in Martin's kitchen nor with the impression I had gathered over the years.

Finally I reached Danny's mum's house. It was in a beautiful location. Gorgeous sea views, high above the cliffs so that flooding wasn't a problem. It was a nice house and garden and whoever was going to buy this property after Danny had improved it could call himself lucky.

I heard Danny sanding the floor upstairs when I entered through the unlocked door. I liked that about Danny. Despite his degree in architecture he hadn't forgotten how to do dirty work. He was still prepared to get his hands dirty. He didn't have to hire any fancy workers. He hadn't forgotten his humble beginnings. He was like me, in a way - doing as much yourself as possible.

I rushed up the stairs and Danny looked up from his work, smiling at me.

"Louisa, you're a star!"

Gosh, I had just brought some paint, but Danny was easily enthused. I was touched. It was nice to get some recognition. Danny was good in saying nice things and making you feel appreciated. When I turned to go after I had put the paint where he wanted me to, I noticed that Danny was putting his hand on his heart. Good old Danny. I felt tears prickling in my eyes as it was such a romantic gesture. It simply made me feel good. No matter how engrossed in his work he was, he always found time for little signs of affection.

I repaid him this gesture and put my hand on my heart. I could imagine us inventing lots of secret signs of love, showing each other how much we meant to each other, and without even saying a word. I thought I had found the answer to the question that was haunting me all day.

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I had just turned to go to another room in the house where I was supposed to pack some things away so that they wouldn't get dusty when Danny started to work in that room, when I heard a loud bang and the machine Danny had been using suddenly changing its sound. Instead of a regular change of direction it seemed it was speeding off into one direction. I turned around to check what was happening. I saw Danny fall on his knees and he was looking downright miserable.

Blimey! Him putting his hand on his heart hadn't been a sign of affection from Danny at all! It was a sign of high discomfort! Danny's cough, I thought suddenly. It must have been something serious, maybe even life threatening.

"Louisa, keep calm", I reminded myself. I took a deep breath and went into the dragon's den.

First thing's first, I unplugged this grinding thingy. I didn't want to be hit by a DIY tool gone wild. I had to be careful entering the room as this thing was running around like a rabid rat and was equally dangerous.

Finally I found the socket and stopped the machine. The silence that followed was deafening. Especially as I could hear Danny's laboured breath pounding in my ears although it was just a mere whisper.

At least he _was _still breathing, which was something.

My immediate reflex was to grab my mobile to ring Martin. However, I thought with the weak state Danny was in, he would need an ambulance anyhow. Martin didn't like time to be wasted in emergencies. So I called 999 instead and was put through to Truro hospital.

While I waited for the call to be connected I remembered that Martin had explained once that he hated to have no information to work on when called out as the caller didn't think it necessary to check the patient's condition before calling. So I squatted down next to Danny and was checking his pulse. Elevated and weak, but definitely there. I could tell that he was having breathing problems, that was quite obvious from the noise he made while trying to catch air. Danny was also conscious, trying to tell me something but the low whisper wasn't loud enough to conquer the rattling of his lungs. If there was anything else I could have detected then it eluded me.

Finally I had spoken with the hospital and had insisted that an ambulance should be sent straight away. I had urged them to hurry, but they couldn't make it sooner than in 30 minutes. Actually, Danny was very poorly and his colour was getting worse by the second. I was afraid he wouldn't last that long.

Without thinking I grabbed the mobile again and dialled Martin's number.

"Louisa?" A familiar voice was at the other end of the line. A voice that promised help. And quick.

I explained the situation to Martin, and although he actually reminded me that he had patients, as soon as he heard the gravity of the situation, he was off.

I sighed. This was as much as I could do for the moment. Well, except for maybe making Danny a bit more comfortable.

Carrying Danny to the next sofa was out of question. I wasn't strong enough for that. There was also no helping hand in reach. As nice as this house was, it was far too isolated for neighbourly help. I looked around and noticed in one corner the couch that was simply covered with white cloth against the dust, as it had been too heavy to get out of the room.

That'll do, I decided, and removed the covers and dragged the sofa closer to Danny. I was pulling at it and finally had it in front of the window where Danny was still lying in agony.

"Sorry, Danny, can you help me a bit. I'd like to get you on this couch, make you more comfortable. If I support you, do you think you can get up?"

Danny released some air in a ragged staccato, which probably was meant to be an answer. His outstretched arm was more telling, and I pulled at it, trying to get my body underneath it to give him support to push himself up.

At the time I had managed to place Danny on the sofa, we were both out of breath. A quick glance at my watch revealed that it had taken us about five minutes to get him up on the couch and that we couldn't expect Martin to arrive for another ten minutes, if he really put his foot down. I was just hoping Danny would last that long.

His face had taken on a waxen colour and his eyes were popping out, accentuated by the dark circles. I knelt beside him and took his hand, as his arm was always reaching out. His lips were moving and I brought my ear closer to his mouth as I could hardly understand what he was muttering.

"The Lord is my shepherd" he was stopped by his wheezing, "I…shall…"

I squeezed his hand and stopped him. "Danny, that's not the time to recite the bible. Save your breath. You need it. Please, hang in there! Martin should be here any moment. The ambulance is on its way. Now you just have to make it until they're here. Help's on its way."

"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake." Danny kept babbling on with his last breath.

"It's your cough, isn't it? It's got worse. I have _told_ you to get it checked, but you didn't want to listen. Why didn't you get an appointment at the surgery? All this could have been prevented."

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me."

"Danny, stop it! You'll make it! You just have to _want to_! Martin will be here any minute, and then you'll be fine."

"Louisa," Danny couldn't keep quiet and whispered with his last breath, "_if_ I don't make it, tell my mother that I only wanted what's best for her. Be there for her. If a child dies…"

"STOP! You're not going to die! I won't let you! Martin won't let you. So shut up and save your breath. It's weak enough!"

Typical Danny, always putting on a show. He always had a tendency for the melodramatic, even now when he was clinging to his last breath. Especially as it was his own fault! Why had he been so stubborn as to ignore his coughing for so long. He could have spared me this!

"Louisa, I just want you to know…" Danny started again to form words with his laboured breath. Just that moment I heard the sound of a car approaching quickly.

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"That's Martin!" I shouted and let Danny's hand go. His hand slumped down as he hardly had the energy to move it.

I rushed downstairs to get Martin to the right room as quickly as possible.

Uncharacteristically for Martin, he didn't rattle off a list of questions regarding the patient's condition, storming upstairs the minute he arrived, but rather sheepishly stood by the car.

"Louisa, when you came to the house this morning..."

Gosh, Martin, really! You never say a word unless I twist your arm, and now you'd like to chat while Danny is upstairs, fighting for his dear life!

I shushed that man and ordered him upstairs. I could see how his medical persona kicked in. His whole body language changed and he was completely focused.

When I saw Martin kneeling down next to Danny, I felt myself relaxing. Martin was taking things in hand, Danny had survived until his arrival and I was sure, positively sure, that Martin wouldn't let Danny die.

Martin checked Danny's breathing and heartbeat and didn't seem to like what he saw. Well, Danny was really poorly by now and just whimpering, hardly getting any air. He was pale with dark circles around the eyes.

Martin obviously agreed with me that this was indeed an emergency. He looked up and I could see how concerned he was.

"When is the ambulance arriving?" he asked, now completely in business-mode.

"Should be here in a couple of minutes."

"Call them again. Tell them a suspected case of cardiovascular collapse." he informed me and I tried to remember the term. Martin was throwing out medical terms with ease, not always realising that the people around him couldn't place or remember them as easily as he did. However, cardiovascular didn't sound good to me.

While I was on the phone, I saw his brow furrow. He kept on prodding and probing, and while I was on the phone he looked up at me.

"No, actually I think it's a collapsed lung."

That didn't sound any better, although I could at least imagine what that might be.

Martin kept fumbling around, Danny looked worse by the second while I was on the phone, giving the information to the hospital. At least I had learned from Martin to be precise on the phone when reporting an emergency, to control my feelings to focus on the needed information and give the information, especially the address and the condition of the patient as accurately as possible. We had worked together like this first when Peter Cronk had a ruptured spleen, we did it now.

When I ended the call, Martin ordered me to get a container with fluid of any kind. A strange request, I thought, but Martin probably knew what he was doing.

I returned to the sick bed just in time to see Martin stabbing a massive needle into Danny's chest.

My first reaction was pure panic. What was this man doing? It didn't look very healthy to me. More like Dr. Crippen reloaded.

It didn't help either that Danny's body jerked up, and he was drawing a deep breath in, just to slump back onto the couch, completely exhausted.

"Martin, what are you doing?!" I exclaimed, concerned about Danny and completely cross that I had put my trust into Martin, just to find that he was causing more pain.

Martin was completely unimpressed by my outcry, didn't blink an eye and I wasn't even sure if he had actually heard me at all. He was just methodically adjusting some tube that was attached to the needle and then unceremoniously dumped it into the liquid.

Danny however, seemed to relax and was gulping in air, now. He glanced sideways and he looked at Martin almost in gratitude.

Martin checked Danny's pulse immediately and relaxed, too.

"That's better." He simply stated, but sighed relieved.

I looked at my both candidates for procreation and right now, only one made a really good impression. Danny was looking like a withered flower, having roasted in the heat for too long without a drop of water. Actually, I still wasn't entirely certain that I still had two options, looking at Danny.

Only looking at Martin gave me hope for Danny. Martin allowed himself to relax and was merely checking the life signs rather than doing anything. As my trust in Martin was revived after Danny's obvious progress following Martin's dramatic action, I was certain his calm was a good sign.

In the bottle, the tube Martin had inserted into Danny's chest was bubbling away, I was still standing in the door, while Martin was kneeling next to Danny, feeling his pulse and looked slowly at me.

Martin and his various expressions. They got me every time. Martin looked at me absolutely calm and reassuringly. This look of his seemed to say, '_Don't worry, he'll be fine'_. And I believed those eyes.

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It was creepily quiet, and I hoped I would hear the ambulance soon.

I looked at my two men.

I had noticed that Martin had always been tense in Danny's presence. I suppose Danny's religious reformation wasn't entirely to Martin's liking, and in dreamy moments I assumed that I noticed the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head.

Nevertheless, Martin was honestly happy that he had saved Danny, and he was eager for me to realise that I shouldn't worry.

Seeing Martin in this situation made me realise that he did indeed care for people in his own weird way, just that his way was more clinical rather than emotional. When someone was in need, he went to his limit to do everything in his power to prevent any harm.

Danny was always good in expressing sympathy when someone came with a problem. Nowadays, he offered to pray, and talked about how the Good Lord would take care of it. Sometimes I wondered if the Good Lord wouldn't appreciate at least a little bit of Danny's help.

My musings were interrupted by the sound of a heavy vehicle approaching. At last the ambulance arrived.

Martin looked up at me.

"Meet them downstairs and bring them here as fast as possible. Inform them it is a collapsed lung but it has been stabilised by a chest tube. The pulse is weak but steady. Blood pressure stable. They should bring an oxygen mask."

"Right, maybe with all these instructions, you'd better go?"

"I don't want to leave the patient alone."

"_The patient._" I thought while I was following the paramedics upstairs after I had informed them according to Martin's instructions, "That's what they all are for Martin. Patients. Right now Danny wasn't anything more or less for him than an ailing body. He was neither the difficult son of a befuddled mother, nor an architect from London, nor his rival for my attention. No, right now Danny wasn't anything but a collapsed lung to Martin, and Danny could be darn grateful for that.

As soon as the paramedics entered the room, Martin sprang to his feet and bellowed his instructions at them.

"Easy, mate." The elder of the two replied. "We know how to do our job."

"THEN DO IT!" Martin bellowed, while the paramedics started to do the same checks Martin had done before, only that they kept talking to Danny reassuringly.

Finally, the paramedics had come to the same conclusion as Martin, strapped Danny onto the stretcher and placed an oxygen mask onto his face.

They carefully adjusted the tube Martin had forced into Danny's body.

"Did you do that?" The paramedic nodded into the direction of Danny's chest while looking at Martin.

"If you mean that I tried to remove excess air from the pleural cavity, then yes I did. I prefer not to let my patients die, no matter how stupid they are."

"Good work." The paramedic winked at Martin, before lifting the stretcher together with his colleague to carry Danny away, who was trying to grab my hand on his way out.

"Stupid, so poor Danny's stupid that his lung's collapsed?" I was furious at Martin's disrespectful comment on a serious condition.

"Sanding the floor without a mask and giving yourself a collapsed lung is no sign of superior intelligence. I told him to use a mask. But Mr builder-architect knew better. His lungs just didn't."

"You…suspected that Danny had something serious?" I asked incredulously.

Martin, who had been looking towards the ambulance, spun around immediately and grunted at me. "So now it's my fault! Oh, what is it with these people? They ignore the basic security measures, and everyone else is to blame! Best to let them die and be over and done with! I could hardly _force_ the mask onto his face now could I?" Martin turned towards the ambulance again, where Danny tried to remove the oxygen mask from his face. "Unless of course after he has collapsed. Or maybe he just wanted to get to the ranch sooner."

"What?" I didn't get his last comment. What ranch?

Martin harrumphed.

"What ranch?"

"Just a…conversation…we had."

"You talked to Danny? When? When you gave him the lift?"

"Yesterday outside the village hall where that stupid thing was going on."

"It was our talent night, and people worked very hard for it. They gave their best."

"If that's their best…"

"Shush. But when did you talk to Danny? Outside the hall?"

"Talk is maybe a bit too much to say." Martin sneered. Obviously now that Danny was the responsibility of the paramedics, he had ceased to be a patient of Martin's and was just an annoying citizen again getting on Martin's nerves. "He tried to, but his cough got the better of him." Martin didn't smile often, but right now I could have sworn something like a smile was hovering around his mouth. Martin always did the right things at the wrong time, or was it the other way around?

"And you thought that was funny?!" I scolded him.

"At least more so than what he had to say." Martin stated, still obviously peeved about Danny's comments. Whatever their conversation had been about, it surely hadn't been to Martin's liking.

"Still, you could have warned him." I told him, quite disappointed in him that he had let the situation escalate.

"Of course I did!" Martin protested through clenched teeth. "But he preferred to rely solely on higher powers."

Danny was now being wheeled into the ambulance and the paramedics were strapping him. Danny tried to wave his arm in my direction.

"In the end, who had to clear up the mess? Hm?" Martin's eyes were fixed on the ambulance and by now, he seemed more annoyed than angry. "Bloody inconvenient."

The paramedics got into the ambulance and it seemed that they were now ready to move on to the hospital. I looked up at Martin. What he had done had been pretty special. What he had said, not so. By now, his face had turned again to a motionless mask.

"I'll be off, then." Martin said suddenly rather bleakly.

"Aren't you coming?" I was assuming the whole time that we would be joining Danny in the ambulance, just as we had before when Peter Cronk was critically injured.

"No, there's no need. They'll keep me informed." Martin answered matter-of-factly, and probably he was right. As his treating GP he would receive the patient record eventually. Martin had done everything that could be done. Now others were in charge and he could go on doing whatever he had been doing before I interrupted him.

"Shouldn't we just stay together?" Somehow it seemed wrong to me to leave either of them. I had assumed the whole time that we three would go to hospital together. The new situation took me by surprise.

"You the wife, love?" One of the paramedics shouted over.

"Um, no. No, I…I'm…" Gosh, that was embarrassing. Did I really look like someone who could be married to Danny? Why was I embarrassed about it? I looked at Martin instinctively and knew. I knew because of the way his whole body tensed up.

"There's a history." Martin sneered into the general direction of the ambulance, louder than would have been appropriate.

"What?" I was shocked. The comment had been rather unusual for Martin. What's more, it wasn't very becoming either.

"According to Danny." He added, clearly addressing me now, his mouth distorted in disgust.

I was fed up. This wasn't about Martin. This was about Danny, who was in that bloody ambulance fighting for his dear life. And here was Martin, standing beside me as if he had nothing to do with it, acting like a prima donna.

"Martin, you shut up." I just noticed the hurt in Martin's eyes, mixed with defiance, when I hopped into the ambulance.

_To be continued…_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

So, against my better judgement, I found myself on the way to Truro hospital at the back of an ambulance, holding Danny's hand. Actually, I was quite grateful that the oxygen mask had been firmly installed over his mouth. I just knew that I would have screamed if Danny had started reciting psalms again.

Don't get me wrong, I do respect everyone's belief, but there are times for worship, and times for reason. And using your last breath for reciting the bible wasn't a sign of reason for me.

So the journey was pretty uneventful. Danny was just clinging to my hand, until they wheeled him into the A & E department.

Seeing the doors closing after Danny I took a deep breath. Then there was nothing left for me to do but wait. I looked for a vending machine, got myself a much needed cuppa and settled in the waiting area, skipping through the laid out journals without much interest.

I didn't leave Danny until they had stitched him up and he was back in the ICU. I overheard a few of the medical staff discussing the immediate medical support Danny had received. The assessment of Martin's work wasn't short of superlatives.

'Brilliant' and 'outstanding' were just some of the adjectives used.

As soon as the treating doctor entered the emergency unit, he threw one glance at the tube in Danny's chest and immediately asked the paramedics: "Don't tell me, you picked him up in Portwenn?"

"Sure enough." The paramedic responded. "That miserable bugger gave us another lecture how to do our job."

"Miserable bugger maybe, but he knows his stuff." He pointed to Danny's dressing. "Excellent work. So what's wrong exactly?"

"A classic. Sanding the floor without a mask." The paramedic smirked.

The doctor rolled his eyes. "In a spare moment I hope someone explains to me why we go through all that trouble to keep people from killing themselves. Right, off we go."

I waited in the waiting area, remembering the last time I was waiting for a result. Again waiting for good news made possible by the quick intervention of Dr Martin Ellingham. Again an incident caused by irresponsible behaviour, although there had been a warning of the possible consequences.

Back then it had been me ignoring Peter's complaint that team games would be all of the others against him. I wanted him to be part of the class and egged him on. Basically, it was me causing the ruptured spleen of that poor boy.

Again, it was Martin Ellingham who saved him with skills far beyond those of a normal GP, undoing the damage others had caused.

When they wheeled poor Danny past me after his operation, he looked relatively normal again. His skin had lost the grey-palish shade it had been just hours before and the breathing was steady.

The treating doctor assured me that Danny would be fine, thanks to the quick and skilled first aid of the GP.

I was relieved. Danny would live. No matter how stupid he had been.

When I left, I bumped into Roger Fenn. He was beaming from ear to ear. The old miserable bugger I had visited before his cancer operation some time ago was gone and replaced by a boyish, quite sociable guy.

"Ah, Louisa. So good to see you." He smiled, then looked around and added. "Though not good to see you here. Anything amiss?"

I told him the whole story. When I finished he put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer as if telling me something in confidence.

"That miserable bugger did it again. Gosh, sometimes I really want to shake some sense into our lovely villagers. How many wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for Martin? He simply doesn't sell himself very well. I needed to be on my deathbed to recognise his true colours." Roger lowered his voice to a whisper. "He's a good sort, but I don't have to tell you that. I tried to tell my Maureen." He chuckled. "Instead she convinced me of the opposite. I was at the poor man's throat last night. I guess it's time for an apology."

"Maureen, how is she? Everything's alright?" I suddenly remembered her poor state lately and Roger being here wasn't a good sign.

"Haven't you heard? I put her up the duff! Imagine! At our age!" He slapped my back. "Bloody marvellous! That's what it is. Bloody brilliant marvellous!"

"You mean?!" I couldn't believe it! I was worrying about my biological clock, and Maureen, who must be a good ten years older than me, was pregnant! "You and Maureen are having a child?"

"Not _a_ child - children! Twins! Bloody marvellous! They'll be the best bloody wonderful kids in the world."

I touched Roger's arm. "I am so glad for you. You are so lucky."

Roger's smile vanished from his face. "Yeah, I am. You know, I lost almost everything I'd had - first my job, the prospect of a decent pension, then I was afraid of losing my life or my voice, and I'm still not sure which of the two would have been scarier."

"I am so sorry." I nodded, but Roger stopped me with his hand held up.

"No, I mean, it was a tough time, but maybe Maureen and I wouldn't be together if I hadn't lost it completely during one of her singing lessons. If she hadn't picked me up when I had felt most vulnerable, giving me her support. I always wanted to bulldoze through life on my own, proving that I was capable enough, that I could stand up against all the big guys. A remnant of the rebellious youth in me." He flashed me a boyish smile. "Maureen is different. She might appear weak, but she can muddle through, stick to you - in good times and bad times. She won't give up on you. She accepts you the way you are. So, with her, I learned to tolerate my weaknesses and I learned to let her pick me up when I am frightened."

"I tell you, having cancer is bloody scary, and if I hadn't had her to help me through it, I don't know what I would have done. Her and that bugger Doc Martin. He has the most astounding sense of humour."

"Martin?!"

"Haven't you noticed? He can make you smile into the face of death. Gosh, he depressed the life out of me, but he also made it clear that what's going to happen is going to happen, no matter if I like it or not. Strange to say that about him, but he also made me see the funny side of it."

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

That was a side I had truly never experienced with Martin. Besides, Roger was most probably the first person I had ever heard confessing that he'd had a good laugh because of Martin, and not just at his expense.

Roger and I had started to walk towards the exit. At the door Roger turned to me. "Good to have bumped into you. I've got to go. There is a lot to organise before the two rascals pop out, and Maureen is staying here for the rest of her time, I'm afraid. They want to keep her in, because of her age, and them being twins. You know. I bet we meet soon."

"Yeah, and I have to organise a taxi." I sighed.

"You're without your car?"

"Still at Danny's mum's house. I just went into the ambulance with him and didn't think about how I would get back."

"I'll give you a lift, if you don't mind me keeping on about how wonderful my two kids will be." Roger practically beamed at me. He was a completely different person compared with the frustrated, angry man I'd visited a couple of years back.

"Not at all! I love children, why else would I be a teacher. But you're sure it's no trouble? It's quite a detour?"

"No trouble. I need a sounding board anyway, or I'd go mad for joy."

We went to his car, and he even walked differently. There was a bounce in his step I had never noticed before.

He unlocked the car and opened the door for me, bowing in mock chivalry. I laughed when I stepped in.

Humming some wild rhythms he went into the car himself, and while manoeuvring the vehicle out of the parking place, his fingers were drumming the beat on the steering wheel.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You know Roger, it's incredible how you've changed. I think I've never seen you so...chipper."

Roger let his half-hummed, half-whistled tune end in a pompous fanfare, followed by a drum roll on the steering wheel.

"Kids do that to you." He beamed, then stole a more serious side-glance. "You should it try it sometime."

His comment hit me hard. Not long ago, Bert had inquired about my procreation plans. Now Roger. I bit my lip nervously.

"Or don't you want to?" Roger kept on.

When I gave him one of those annoyed looks, he backtracked.

"Sorry, none of my business."

I sighed. "No, it's alright. It's just...don't think I don't want to? As soon as I find the right man..."

"You really think I'd be the right man for any woman? Don't you think Maureen could have done better? Or do you think I'd be the right father to any child? Ask my daughter."

"You've got a daughter? I never knew?"

"Ah, since she could afford her own TV set, we've gone our separate ways. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame her. I messed that up completely. Bloody stubborn, that's what I've been. Didn't give her enough space to develop."

"And her mother?"

"Yeah, right. Another mistake of mine." Roger patted my knee. "Good advice. Never fall in love at a concert. I had been playing with our band, way back when. She started flirting with me big time after our gig, good looking, funny - I couldn't believe my luck."

"But..."

"Well, after some time she realised that a rather difficult man came with the decent musician. Life isn't all stage and performance and fun. We simply weren't very good at the treadmills of life. So she left. She also left me our daughter."

"And…"

"Well, one does what one has to do. I didn't have much choice, did I?"

"That sounds awful."

"Yeah, that's what I've been. Awful. A truly awful father. It doesn't really help when you're stuck with a child, alone, unplanned and unprepared. Maybe I was too young to have children. But aren't you always _too something_ to be a parent? Either you're too young, or too old. Or you're too much involved in your work, or you haven't any. Or you're too independent, or too dependent on others. Logically, there is no right time for children whatsoever. Maybe that's why I never _planned _to have any of mine."

I pondered over this question as it hit true to home. Roger had given me more than a lift, he'd also given me something to think about.

"So you think you can't plan things like that?" I finally asked.

"Well, some can – maybe. Maybe I'm just too much of a self-centred bastard to do that right." He flashed me a smile.

I started to protest, but Roger didn't let me.

"No, I mean you really have to care for a child. I mean _really_ care for it, not just keeping it from disturbing you in your own ways. You have to put your own ways behind for a couple of years, as the child can't. If you don't, you'd end up as me and my daughter have."

Roger kept quiet for some time and I didn't feel like talking either. I was thinking. Was I ready to devote my life to a child? Which of my candidates would be able to give a child what it needs? My thoughts were interrupted when Roger continued more like talking to himself.

"You think I should tell my daughter about her half-brothers?"

"Hm, seems appropriate? Don't you think?"

"I haven't really thought about it before. I guess I should."

"But…? I feel a _but_ coming."

Roger looked over at me and he looked worried. "Thing is, I don't even have her address."

I gasped.

"It's awful, isn't it? Gosh, I've been such an arse! But you know how it goes – they move, and they give you their address, and you don't write or call because you think you've got something more important to do, and you can always do it next week – there's always a next week. And suddenly you do decide to actually call, and then there's someone else on the phone. She's moved again, but I haven't the slightest clue whereto."

"I'm so sorry. Doesn't her mother know?"

Roger spat a bitter laugh. "She has been even more disinterested in our offspring than I've been. I don't know where she could be either. Actually, I don't regret not knowing that. It was a mistake of mine that was filed under "_E_" – for _Experience_."

"Hm, so what are you going to do?"

"I really should try to track down my daughter. I should tell her. Maybe it's time to get on speaking terms again. The least I can do."

"But I mean – she left without giving her address. That was pretty mean." I tried to stop Roger from being too harsh on him.

"I can't blame my daughter. I really was rubbish as a father. I would also have fled home as soon as I could if I had been my son." Roger sighed, but then he gave the steering wheel a slap. "That's why I want to do a better job the second time. And I will." He declared determined. "Because this time, I have Maureen by my side."

Roger started humming again.

_To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

After a while Roger glanced sideways again. "What about you?"

"What about me?" I was tensing up.

"What makes the man 'right' for you?" Roger inquired further.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I'll know when I meet him." Actually, I always thought that I would recognise it immediately, even if I couldn't really put my finger on it.

"No luck so far?"

"Nope." I was getting a bit frustrated with the turn the conversation had taken and tried to keep this subject as short as I could.

"You know what the whole village is thinking, don't you?" Roger glanced at me, grinning.

"No. What?! Never mind." I looked out of the passenger window. Nevertheless, as much as I tried to avoid Roger's gaze, I could feel his eyes upon me.

"You know, I'm not really into the grapevine as such, but even I couldn't avoid hearing the rumours, if you could even call it that." Roger kept on.

I held up my hand defensively. "I'm really not interested at all in what people are thinking, especially if they feel they have to choose a partner for others, least of all for me!"

"I won't be saying another word. You're quite right. I guess Maureen and I came as quite a shock for most of the village. I still don't know how we managed to keep it a secret for that long. The benefit of living remote, I suppose."

Roger kept tapping the steering wheel.

"You mind if I turn the radio on?" He asked after some blessed moments of silence.

"Not at all." I hoped that would keep him from inquiring further.

Roger tuned through different programs. The first one he stopped at was blaring 'The Right Man', just as if it wanted to mock me.

"Not really my stuff." Roger commented. "Besides, it doesn't work that way."

"Which way?" I regretted my question the moment it left my mouth.

"The right man, you know. It's just a myth. No man is completely the right one. Mind you, neither is any woman. You've got to attune to each other." Roger used the indicator and swiftly turned into the road to Portwenn. "Sort of cost-benefit calculation."

"Sounds romantic." I couldn't help but comment bemused.

"To be honest, starting living together wasn't pure romance. Especially not for me. Maureen was far better at it. After all, she had cared for her mother most of her life and since her mother had been pretty poorly, Maureen had to back down most of the time. So she really was used to not having things her way."

Roger turned into the next smaller lane.

"With me it was different. Quite different. I was used to living on my own. Having to compromise at nothing and for no one. Being my own master, so to speak. It was quite a change not to do as I liked all of the time, having to consider someone else's needs all of a sudden. Wasn't easy to start with, I can tell you. I suppose the longer you've lived on your own, the harder it gets."

"So why did you do it?"

"It might sound mad, but one smile from Maureen made it worth it. Maybe that's the only way to find out if your partner is right for you. You've got to find out how much you're willing to sacrifice. How much you're willing to give. How much of your recent circumstances you're willing to change for your partner. And it has to be quite a lot to last a lifetime. Even when 'lifetime' is considerably more manageable for me now." Roger winked.

"Ah, yes, and then of course it's important to find out how much your partner is willing to give. With Maureen it was quite easy – she's the most generous person you can find and she gives in abundance." Roger's smile broadened. "Well, that's it, basically. Because – and I will end my lecture on the Fenn-theory of relationships here – the rest is about compromise. Give a little, take a little. And in the end you've got a huge plus on both sides. Only then you can build a common ground."

Roger was now slowly driving through the narrow streets of our village.

"Speaking of giving in…" He looked more serious now. "We will need some room for a nursery."

"Sounds reasonable." I mused, while Roger stopped right in front of my cottage.

"You can't use a music studio by any chance?" He asked me.

I gasped. "Roger, you're not serious, are you? You're music is your life!"

"Always has been, but to be honest, we don't have any other room in the house that we could use. So I guess my stuff has to go."

"But you've worked for years to get all the…stuff." I waved my hand vaguely in the air.

"Yes, most of my savings went into that. But remember what I said about being willing to sacrifice? The little 'uns didn't ask to be around. Maureen and I will shove them into this world. It's only fair to give them everything we can. At least they should have their own space. It's just fair, isn't it?"

"Yes, but isn't there any other choice?" My brain worked feverishly for a solution, as I knew what the music meant to Roger.

"Well, then I think I'd better advertise the equipment. Would be a shame to throw it away."

"Uhm…Roger, I can't make any promises, and you probably wouldn't get any money for it…but what if you could let the school use your equipment. You could put it up in the music room and you could use it whenever you like, of course. We wouldn't be able to buy it, but maybe as a long-term loan? And if you ever have the space to put it up again in your house, you'd still have it." I suggested.

Roger gave my knee a slap. "Sounds like a plan. I'll think about it!"

"As I said, I can't promise you yet. I have to check the practicability first. There might be insurance issues or something. I've got to check that first."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd be very grateful."

"Will do. Thanks for the lift."

"It was my pleasure, and I hope you didn't mind 'Uncle Roger's Guide to Relationships'. Sorry for being such a chatterbox. Take care."

I had managed to get out of Roger's car and just waved as he drove off.

I pondered about what Roger had said, about the right man and being comforted and being there for one another. Martin had always been there when I needed him. He had always supported me.

I could honestly say that I tried to do so, too. I tried to defend him against Adrian Pitts, but he didn't know that. I had tried to defend him against his parents, which backfired against him, I had to admit.

I thought of Martin alone in his cottage having to entertain his horrible parents, being around his Mum after what she had said to him. Having seen how he had interacted with both his parents, I couldn't imagine him standing up to them. He'd probably been belittled and run down the whole evening.

I didn't want that for him. If I really considered him as a possible partner, which I was less and less able to deny that I did, then I should start doing something for him.

A plan formed in my head, one that might not be the most straightforward one, but the only one I could imagine might work.

_To be continued…_


End file.
